


Live For Me

by FinVander



Category: Fiction - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:26:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29762376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinVander/pseuds/FinVander
Summary: El struggles with an eating disorder, and it effects every aspect off her once normal life. More recently, it's began to eat away at her friendships. But June wants to help her, even if El doesn't want her help. A touching story of how friendship can save lives.





	Live For Me

“Where were you last night?” June spat at me indignantly. Her tanned, freckled face was filled with an odd mix of frustration and anguish. “Why do you always do this? You promised you would go out with us this time. You can’t keep cancelling plans all the time.” She glared at me expectantly, as tears began their way down her cheeks from shooting. Meanwhile I focused on calmly picking my brain for a reasonable excuse.

“I uh, I didn’t feel well last night.” Was all I could come up with on the spot. Technically, I wasn’t lying, I was in fact ill. Of course I would never admit that to anybody, and it had been this way for a long time now. Me refusing to eat anything but rice cakes and apple slices, and generally taking terrible care of myself. Feeling too weak to leave the house, therefore causing me to put my entire life on hold. 

I was torn away from my thoughts when June lifted my arm up by the wrist. Her hand, which was much larger than mine, easily wrapped all the way around with room to spare. In a sick and twisted way, that made me happy. “Oh my god! You are getting smaller again. What is going on with you? We’re all really worried about you.” Her words brought a small smile to my face, but I quickly wiped it off and pretended to be concerned about what she was telling me. 

“I don’t know, I think you are imagining things.” I replied, harshly ripping my arm away from her hand. She gave me one last grieving look, tears now quickly streaming down her face, and heatedly spun on her heels and left me alone, slamming the door on her way out to further prove her point.  
Ever since we first met back in middle school, June was like this, always such a worrywart. Even now at the age of twenty, she still resigned this pestering characteristic of hers. Always making sure to check up on me, whether I needed it or not. Like I was a child who needed to be watched constantly. While it could be a bit obnoxious at times, it was out of kindness, and I knew that deep down. In a way, she was the mom of the friend group. Always the one to make the plans, the one to make sure everybody had a ride, the one to check when the movie was playing, to bring snacks. And I absolutely loved her for that. But it was times like this when I noted that she was sticking her nose in places it didn't belong.

Trying to make up excuses all the time was exhausting; why wouldn't they just leave me alone? Frustrated, I made my way to my least favorite room in the house, the kitchen, to drink some water. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a chocolate bar sitting on the countertop menacingly. A sharp shudder ran down my back, and I hastily averted my eyes. I could not even bear to look at what was once my favorite food. I quickly forgot about the water. I was not only mentally tired, but physically as well. Feeling on the verge of feinting was nothing new to me, so I made my way to the couch to lie down, knowing I would not have time to go up to my room this time. But that didn’t really matter; my parents were off on another business trip anyways, hell, they were away more than they were home. Staring blankly at the ceiling of my living room seemed to be draining any energy I had left. My vision began to grow foggy, and I drifted off into a state of unconsciousness. 

The deeply unsettling sound of a hospital heart monitor was the first thing I heard upon waking up. I immediately knew where I was, and why I was there. How I had gotten here was where I drew a blank. The second thing I heard was sobbing. It was June. I lay still in the cold hospital bed, afraid to open my eyes, knowing that it would confirm my suspicion that I was in fact in a hospital. God, how I hated it here. I had always feared doctors offices and hospitals, in fact, the only reason I hadn't gone too far yet was in fear of ending up here.  
Hesitantly, I opened my eyes, fluttering them slowly so they would believe I had just now come to. The ungodly bright fluorescent lights assaulted my vision. Before I had a chance to recover, June leaped up from her chair beside my bed, shouting and making a ruckus. “I came back to apologize, and you were lying on the couch. I just thought you were asleep, I tried to wake you. You just, you wouldn't wake up. I thought you were dead, I panicked, I called 911. Oh god, I thought you were dead!” She sobbed, progressively getting louder as she continued.  
“Has anybody called my parents?” I asked, my voice surprising me with how weak it was.

“No, I will do that now.” She replied, wiping away a tear and reaching to her pocket to grab her phone. I slapped her hand away from her phone in a panic.  
“Good, keep it that way. They are in Europe for business. Not that they would care anyway, you know how they are.” She simply nodded in reply. Her head lowered towards the ground, hiding her eyes from mine. But I knew that she was crying. I didn’t have a clue how to respond to this whole situation. Even though I was lying in a hospital bed, likely a couple months away from death, I was still unable to say it out loud. It was like an invisible hand was covering my mouth, silencing me. I wanted to tell her that I was sorry, and that I would get better from now on. But my mouth refused to move. All I could do was stare at here, too numb to even cry. 

I hadn't always been this way, so jaded and numb. I used to be a cheery and happy kid; always smiling full of love. But in my first year of middle school, something changed. Suddenly I was changing, getting bigger and fuller. Much larger than the other girls at my school, and this made me stand out significantly. Following these changes, I was bullied to no end. I would go home from school and go straight to my room, not leaving until everybody else went to bed so that I wouldn't have to face them. I succeeded in isolating myself from my friends and family because of the fear that they would begin to taunt me as well. I was completely alone with nobody to talk to, so I learned to turn off my emotions and become numb to the harsh words that were spoken to me.  
Over the years, I had slipped into this state of numbness, and things that would upset any normal person left me almost unfazed. Like when my grandfather died last year, I was asked to sing at his funeral. My grandmother nagged me that I did not have to do it if I didn't want to, that she would understand if it was too upsetting. With a blank face I told her that that would not be a problem, and that I would do it if I was asked to. The look she gave me was one that is burned into my memory even now. A look of mortification, of grief, of horror even.  
June continued to stare at me, silent tears continuing to stream down her face, as my mind was content in its dazed state. But her next words would pull my mind out of that dazed state. Out of that numb way of living that had encased me. Her next words would shatter the invisible hand that silenced my screams for help all these years. “I could never live without you, you know that right? I know it’s pretty selfish of me to tell you that you should stay alive just for me, but I don’t care if it’s selfish. I don’t care if you hate me for the rest of your life, but please, stay alive. If you don't care enough to stay for yourself, then stay for me. Your grandfather would not want to see you so soon. So please just live for me, El.” She finally lifted her head, her teary eyes meeting my sunken ones. And with that, I began to cry. I broke down, letting years of pent up emotions flow out of me like a collapsed dam, shattered from wear and tear. I cried until there were no tears left, sitting hunched over until no sound would come out. 

We cried in that ER room for what seemed like hours, and it probably was. Late into the night, we sat down to discuss the options of discharging me with the nurse. Technically, I was in a bad enough state that they could petition the court to make me stay. But the nurse was kind and understanding; she was willing to cut me a deal. She would allow me to discharge against medical advice and sign a waiver, on one condition. I was to attend weekly therapy sessions with a therapist of her choosing until I was deemed to be stable. She called my parents and discussed the situation, and of course, they were more worried about the cost of medical bills than my well being. After finally leaving sometime after midnight, June insisted on taking me out for dinner. We went to the only place that would still be open at an hour like this, Dennys. 

As we hastily made our way to our designated booth, I tried to remember the last time I had an actual, full meal. It would have been thanksgiving, and it was now well into summer. She ordered chocolate chip pancakes, and I asked the waitress for just a side of toast with no butter. But June interrupted me. “Actually, she will have the chocolate chip pancakes as well.” The waitress raised an eyebrow at this, but hurried away anyway to put in our order. 

Chocolate everything had always been my favorite as a kid, but that had obviously deteriorated over time. I rolled my eyes at her, irritated. But I didn’t complain, I remembered that I was doing this for her. When the waitress set the plate of chocolate covered pancakes in front of me, I felt like I was going to puke out of fear. My hands became clammy, and I looked anywhere but at the food in front of me. Nonetheless, I swallowed the lump in my throat, and cut myself off a ridiculoudly small piece. I stared at that bite of pancake like it was going to bite me instead.  
Looking up at June for encouragement, I realized she had been staring at me intently this whole time, anxiously tapping her fingers on the table. Waiting to see if I would actually follow through. The swollen red appearance of her eyes reminded me why I was here. Apprehensive, I popped the small bite into my mouth. It sat there unmoving for a while, because admittedly, I was afraid to swallow. After a few slow and shaky bites I looked back to June, who looked satisfied. This was enough for today. I would eat just a little bit more the next day, then a little more the next. From here on out, I was going to recover, no matter how hard it was. I knew that there would be setbacks, relapses, and unbearable struggles. But I was going to survive, for her. Because she meant more to me than I ever did to myself.


End file.
